The Fall of Markarth: A Dark Brotherhood Tale
by ShinRa13
Summary: Months after the assassination of Emperor Titus Mede II, the listener of the Dark Brotherhood is given the greatest task the Dark Brother head has ever faced, To slay every man, woman, and child in The Reach for Madanach of the Forsworn. pairings undecided rated M for violence
1. Prologe

**After years of just reading fanfiction I've finally decided to write one. A few months back I watched a Skyrim machinima called the Siege of Markarth by Tyrannicon this will essentially be a story about the events leading up to that moment.**

**I do not own Skyrim or any of its characters. Though I sometimes wish I did **

Madanach took his seat in Druadach Redoubt. He rested his head on his fist, and contemplated his next course of action. Decades of mindlessly terrorizing the Reach, and still his people were no closer to reclaiming their freedom now as the were then. It was time to take a new approach. His best leaders and briarhearts were gathered for a war council, as well as his friends from Cidna mine.

_'All but one'_ thinking of his mysterious ally who helped him escape that hell after 10 long years

"Brothers. It is time for war. It is time to finally retake our homeland once, and for all." Madanach announced to his subjects. The empire has ruled the Reach since the days of Tiber Septim, but the rule of the empire is over. When the empire surrendered to the aldmeri dominion, they had all but doomed themselves. The resources, and men expended in suppressing the Stormcloak rebellion, and the assassination of the emperor by the Dark Brotherhood has weakened them. Now was the time to strike. The question was how.

"What do you mean my king" Uraccen his closest ally asked "Have we not been at war for years"

"No brother. We were never at war. We have deluded ourselves into thinking of ourselves as soldiers but in reality we are nothing more than terrorist, trying to reclaim lands lost to us long ago".

Madanach was no fool. He knew they had long since lost this war. 12 years ago they had managed to take back their land, and they had lost it just as quick. It was clear to him now that the old ways had failed them. It was time for a change.

"Madanach! What blasphemy do you speak." Bracken a young, and talented, briarheart; who at 19 earned his status as the youngest Forsworn Briarheart leader in history, on the battle field roared in disapproval. In all the years of the forsworn none had spilled more blood in the name of the Old Gods than he, his hatred of the nords was unprecedented, and extreme, even among the forsworn, he was debated to be, the best soldier in Madanach's army, and he knew it.

"Watch your tongue whelp" Borkul chastised the young warrior.

"And what will you do if I don't. Orc."

"**Enough".** Madanach decided to end this before it got out of control. "Bracken I understand your frustration but it is time to accept the limitations of the old ways"

"What limitations" Bracken demanded

"My child we have been fighting a useless battle against the invaders longer than you have been alive. Yet still our people are no closer to reclaiming our lands than we were then". Madanach admitted solemnly "It is time for a change"

"What kind of change." As the leader of the Briarhearts Bracken was effectively the religious leader of the reach men.

In the Old Beliefs when Anu reformed all of creation into Nirn, he started with the beautiful mountains and flowing rivers of the Reach. As man and mer came into the world they recognized the power's of Anu and Padomay. The worship of these gods started in the Reach

Now the beliefs of the Old Ways were bastardized into the aedra and daedra. The aedra were born of the blood of both Anu and Padomay and became the eight divines. Where as the daedra were the children of just Padomay. Only the reach men continue in their worship of the Old Gods.

However it was the Daedric Lord Hircine who taught the reach men many of their ways to survive the harsh terrain of Skyrim.

"I believe it is time we look for outside help to aid in our struggle".

Upon this proclamation the council was in an uproar, in all the years the forsworn had inhabited the Reach, never before had a king so blatantly attempted to disregard the Old Ways

"My king. We cannot look to outsiders for help with our conflicts. The Old Gods forbid it". Uraccen cried

"Forget the Old Gods. You seek to entrust the safety of our operation to a bunch of sell swords, they'd sell us all out first chance they got" Borkul added gruffly.

"Do not fret my brothers. I seek not to abandon the old ways nor do I wish to look to mercenaries for help. Brothers and sisters I believe it is time we evoke **The Wrath of Sithis.**"

A collected gasp goes throughout the gathered forsworn and for a while there is nothing but silence

"My lord you cannot mean to hire The Dark Brotherhood" Bracken asked apprehensively

"Humph the Dark Brotherhood cowards who use illusions roaches hiding in the shadows of men better then themselves. What good could the be in reclaiming an entire hold from the empire". Borkul mocked.

"When used correctly one man can be worth one hundred". Braig added sagely

"That isn't the point. Though it was Anu and Padomay who gave birth to the Aedra, and Daedra, it was Sithis who created Anu and Padomay, and the Dark Brotherhood are Sithis' agents on Nirn". Bracken informed Borkul "Madanach are you so foolish as to invoke the fury of the oldest of all beings in existence"?

"Aye I am so foolish" Madanach answered the young briarheart "I believe that for the right price the children of Sithis will aid us in our task".

"I agree with Madanach as much as I hate their way of doing things the Brotherhood are the truest killers in all of Tamriel" Borkul added "Killing the emperor on his own ship surrounded by his elite guards. Now that is art"

"As if you would know anything about art Orc". Bracken sneered causing Borkul to growl in anger.

"I get it so we hire a Dark Brotherhood assassin to take out the jarl or maybe the entire Silver-Blood family". Braig suggested

"No my friend, your think to small Braig" Madanach tapped lightly on his head for emphasis

"What? How do you mean"? Braig asked his king.

"My friends I believe I said that it was time for a change. People hire assassins to kill kings and aristocrats every day" Madanach rebuked the idea completely. "I propose that we do something entirely different" Madanach added slyly

"What do you mean Madanach". Gavin leader of one of the great clans of reach men asked not liking where this was headed.

"I propose that we hire the Dark Brotherhood for and undertaking the likes of which no one has ever seen. I propose that we hire them to assassinate. The Reach".

"**Madanach! Have you lost your mind". **Bracken howled with rage "Ignoring the sheer impossibility of any organization succeeding in secretly wiping out 500,000 people without any one noticing, why would you give such a task to the Dark Brotherhood"?

"Sire, forgive me but I must agree. The Dark Brotherhood may be on the rise since the assassination of emperor Titus Mede II they are still, but a mere shadow of their former power". Braig inquired

"I know that's why I'm giving it to them" Madanach answered his steward

"My lord I'm not sure I understand".

"It's quite simple, I believe the Dark Brotherhood will succeed in any task they accept, but even if they should fail it will be no loss to us" Madanach explained

"I see, if the assassin's should succeed then the Reach is ours again, and if not it's no big deal" Borkul observed

"You maximize success while minimizing risk. As wise a strategy as their ever was". Braig agreed "But sir, what makes you think they would agree to suck a daunting task"

"Well I don't care. Relying on outsiders is forbidden" Bracken disparaged loudly

Madanach ignored the briarheart leader and spoke once more to the entire council "Oh they'll agree, because we'll make them an offer they can't refuse" Madanach countered confidently.

"It doesn't matter The Old Gods forbid it" Bracken announced once more

"_No. It shall be done the __O__ld __G__ods command it" _Verruca announced in the gravely shrieking voices that only hagravens possessed "_I__ has seen it, yes. In the entrails. Much blood. Much despair. Fire and shadow. All shall become one. Darkness and ice. Under the dar__k sun. Hire these death-dealers_ _let them bring about the Fall of Markarth"._

With the hags declaration any and all debate on the subject was over. Bracken looked down in shame as the forsworn war council came to their decision.

"Alright then; if no one else has anything else to add on the subject, I move to hire dark brother to deal with our problem. If there are any objections speak now".

The king in rags was met with only silence

"Alright then, so how do we do this"? The hag grinned and pointed along talon to the corner where a dead nord woman lie naked surrounded by candles. The hag handed him a grim looking dagger.

"_Does it know the words. The prayer of the wife of Sithis hmm"_ Verruca asked him

"Yes I do" Madanach took the knife, and knelt down next to the corpse

_'Oh well, no turning back now' _Madanach raised the knife, and stabbed the woman in the heart "Sweet mother, Sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear".

Miles away in the frozen wilderness of the pale, behind the black door of the Dawnstar sanctuary the corpse of an old woman hang in a large black coffin. As Cicero tended to then night mother he could have sworn that he saw her smile.

**I googled the population of Tamriel and was suprised to see that the numer was just 5061 so for the sake of realism lets just say the entire population of skyrim is 20 million with 500,000 people living in Markarth. So I would love to get any reviews possible as well as any hints or recommendations for how the story should progress**


	2. Time for Work

**Chapter 2 Time for Work**

**I do not own Skyrim or any of the Elder Scrolls series **

"_By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail."_**_  
__―_**_Benjamin Franklin_

Morthal was silent in the late spring night. The two full moons that hang low in the sky bathed the world in a pale ethereal glow, giving the city a hauntingly eerie appearance. The cobblestone roads were bare, not a single living soul would dare traverse the streets at such a late hour.

_'Well if they valued their lives' _a single cloaked figure mused as he walked though the dark city.

The only light were the filthy oil lamps lightly suspended above the various doors and windows of the humble homes of Morthal. The silence was only broken by the deafening wails of Skyrim's many creatures, and the clink of the Hjaalmarch guards weapons and armor as they mindlessly through their holds desolate streets.

Amongst the thatched roofed log huts that lined the fog covered swampland stood the only hotel in Morthal, the Moorside Inn. Probably his favorite inn outside of the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. the exterior consisted only of two flights of stairs leading up to the porch at the front of the inn.

The man walked through the front door and entered the main common room. There were five long wooden tables and benches against the walls, with the counter at the far end. There were no other patrons that he could see, the quiet and seclusion made this his favorite spot, east of Whiterun.

_'I'm so glad I killed Larbuk.' _the man thought, reminiscing on slaying the one element that made sleeping here unbearable.

He approached an older redguard woman sweeping the room.

"Hi, what can I help you with" the woman greeted him, he thinks her name is, Jonna sister to the wizard Fallion he believed?

_'Oh well she doesn't really matter' _he thought as he reached into his coin purse and pulled out ten septims "Would you happen to have a room available" he asked politely

Jonna perked up instantly. "Certainly its yours for the night" she collected the gold and lead him to the rooms.

There were three doorways leading to three bedrooms, two to the southeast and a larger room to the northwest.

Jonna showed him the larger bedroom which consisted of a large double bed in the middle of the northwest wall, with dressers on either side holding a bottle of wine, alto wine, two bottles of nord mead, a steel dagger, and six common books.

Along the northeast wall are a pile of food sacks and a long unlocked chest. To the right of the doorway a wooden table and chair holding a goblet and a bowl.

The man examined the room thoughtfully and smiled. "Thank you this will suit my purposes just fine."

Jonna smiled "Okay, well just let me know if you need something." she led herself from the room and closed the door behind her.

The man quickly unpacked when he was done several weapons and potions lie strewn across the bed. Swords, arrows, and daggers of the highest caliber in both craftsmanship and enchanting, almost all of which were smithed and enchanted by the man himself.

Among his favorite weapons were an ebony sword of legendary quality dual-enchanted to not only deal lightning damage to its victim but also to trap his soul upon death.

A small silver ax decorated with hawk feathers and light enough to be thrown in a pinch. It was enchanted to absorb both the stamina and health of the enemy and transfer them to the user, as far as he knew it was a one-of-a-kind artifact he received from the corpse of a random smith deep in the wilderness of the Pale.

The only thing he knew of the ax's origins was that it was crafted to be able to be used as both a hand-to-hand and stealth weapon with mid-ranged capabilities. Why it was named the Tomahawk like many things its wielder would never know.

The man smiled as his tested the draw strength og his favorite weapon. The Nightingale Bow, a gift from Karliah of the thieves guild, since coming into his possession this bow had seen more death than any of the daedric artifacts he had in his employ.

Taking stock of not only his weaponry but a host of potions ranging from increased stamina to skooma.

The single person in the room dressed himself in a set of red and black light armor, and prepared for his evening activities.

_'Tonight is the night' _the man contemplated as he examined his items making sure they were in peak condition. _'And its going to happen again and again.' _

After inspecting all of his equipment, the figure packed his things, left a large bag of gold on the table (a tip for the innkeeper for her discretion) and left the inn.

_'It has to happen' _the figure thought plainly as he walked calmly through the streets of Morthal.

He observed his surroundings, enjoy the sounds of Skyrim at night, watching a guard shuffle about, gripping his torch tightly, hands going to his weapon at the slightest sound.

_'Smart man' _the dark armored figure silently praised the guard _'There is nothing wrong with a healthy sense of fear'._

As irrational as it may seem, it increased their awareness, and one could never be to careful on a night like this.

_'You never knew what could be lurking in the shadows of Skyrim.' _the man smiled at the thought.

_'Nice night' _contrary to popular opinion Morthal was one of his favorite places in all of Tamriel. He found the fog, and the ethereal glow the moons created quite beautiful. Nirnroot, nightshade, dragonflies, and other alchemical ingredients were plentiful, and the lack of industrialization like that of Solitude or Markarth left the town surrounded by the natural untamed beauty of the wilderness of Skyrim.

The people were quiet humble folk who mostly kept to themselves, and the lack of any true strategic points left the hold mostly untouched by the war.

_'I love the food, mammoth steak sandwiches, my favorite' _ the man thought as he came to just outside of Morthal where admittedly probably his best-friend and weapon waited for him. _'But tonight I'm hungry for something different' _

"Shadowmere." the man greeted the dark horse. Spawned from a pool of pure evil just outside of the Falkreath sanctuary, Shadowmere was without a doubt the mans greatest ally and savior.

The near immortal horse drew the attention of a host of enemies, ranging from bandit highwaymen, to bears, and even dragons. The man was a powerful warrior now yes, but in his early days he'd have surely perished without the dark steed's aid.

"Are you ready to work" Shadowmere neighed happily in response, deep red glowing eyes, shining with anticipation of the hunt.

The man smiled petting the horse gently to calm him. "Indeed my friend" the man said as he mounted the beast.

"Its time to feed the void another soul" the shrouded figure assured Shadowmere as they rode into the darkness of the woods of Hjaalmarch.

**Well what do you think? Im still in the begining stages but i want this story to be an Epic as any siege on a major city deserves a great backstory**


	3. Interlude: Triana Silver-Hunter

**A short interlude from the perspective of one of the many nameless bandits the Dragonborn's met in his tenure as hero of Skyrim's**

**Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim is the property of Bethesda soft-works and its respective owners no money will be made from this fanfiction**

"_On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."__  
__―__Chuck Palahniuk__, __Fight Club_

Triana Silver-hunter was a treasure-hunter by trade, like her father, and his father before him, who found herself stuck between a rock, and a hard place during the raid of a ship called the Icerunner, with the Blackblood Marauders, a group of pirates she joined after traveling from Cyrodil to Solitude in search of the gauldur legend.

The young nord woman woke 30 minutes late the day the raid was to take place, and arrived to find the Icerunner crashed ashore the corpses of fishermen, imperial soldiers, and the Blackblood Marauders, Deeja led to claim the ship, lying scatted about the deck and floating in the waters of the Sea of Ghost.

Triana could do nothing but stare, abashed by the pure carnage. "By the nine, what could have caused this much destruction".

As she approached the wreck of the Icerunner the woman turned her head to the familiar sound of a horse's hooves pounding heavily on the earth, and the sound of their riders shouting encouragement to the beast.

Triana climbed a nearby tree to get a better view as well as a hiding place from any imperial soldiers coming to examine the wreck. From her vantage point she scanned the area trying to discern what was going on.

What she saw however wasn't the approach of men-at-arms as she had guessed but the site of the Blackblood Marauder wizard Daynas Ralenci in a spell battle with a large pure black steed and a man in dark shrouded armor wielding an ebony sword in one hand, and a magic spell in the other.

Triana watched on gobsmacked as Daynas; while maintain a ward, blasted ice spike after ice spike at both the man and the horse. The shrouded stranger seemed only mildly hampered by the powerful frost spell, while the horse seemed completely unfazed.

_'That's enough ice to cripple the strongest nord warrior, and here is this creature brushing of his attacks as if it had been bitten by a fly' _Triana observed in awe

The mysterious hooded man continued to approach Daynas all the while firing bolts of lightning from his finger tips, as the horse continued kicking the wizard.

_'Divines whats going on here'. _As a shadow approached the battle field, she leaned forward to get a better view. Unfortunately, at that same time Daynas abandoned his spells in favor of drawing his dagger, this appeared to bet the moment his enemy was waiting for.

The cloaked stranger unleashed a shout that sounded like a boom of thunder, sending Daynas over a cliff crashing into the rocky shore of the sea.

Like most of Tamriel Triana had heard of the power of the voice, but the shock of witnessing it first hand forced her to stumble, the slight movement caused the tree branch to break sending her crashing into the ground.

As an unfamiliar imposing form converged upon her, she seemed to shrink into herself. Overwhelmed, confused, as well as hurt from the fall, she was slightly relieved when darkness swept across her vision.

Awareness returned to her, bit by bit. She awoke groggily and found herself without a single septim, stripped of her clothes and equipment, but still very much alive.

Triana wandered across Skyrim for months doing any odd jobs she could find, her heart filled with vengeance for the man who left her humiliated in the middle of nowhere. Until she finally came to be a member of the Robber's Gorge bandits.

In her travels, she heard rumors of a man who matched her assailants description.

Dragon-born they called him, she heard stories of his power. They said that it was he who traveled to savangarde to slay the world eater alduin. She heard other rumors of him being the leader of both the companions, and the college of winterhold. As well as being thane of every hold in Skyrim.

Needless to say Triana found the fire of vengeance in her heart shrinking, replaced by the cold feeling of fear and gratefulness having done what so few had. Survived the wrath of the Dragon-born.

_~II~_

The young woman sat half asleep in her chair atop the makeshift log guard tower. _'Another quiet boring night' _Triana sighed. She had no idea why anyone would set up in this armpit of Skyrim; nothing ever happened here, it was a large part of the reason why she chose here after ordeal with the Blackbloods in Solitude, she wanted a job with a little less action.

Robber's Gorge was a camp located in western Hjaalmarch. It is a well-fortified bandit encampment straddling the main roadway and commanding an admittedly strategic location along the main route from Whiterun to Solitude, situated south-west of Morthal and just west of Kilkreath Ruins. The fort was well fortified with one main access point, several watch towers and two rock-fall traps which are controlled by the lever at the watchtowers.

She sighed once again and prepared to return to sleep, only to jolt at the distinctive clang of steel.

"But, what"? Triana watched as a wood elf bandit (whose name she didn't know) fell dead from his chair. An Redguard outlaw ran sword drawn across the bridge in hopes of confronting the hidden assailant(s) only to be struck down of the bridge by an arrow, onto the cold hard ground, where he died from his injuries.

Making a split second decision, Triana scrambled to hid heself and her bow just beneth the table she was sitting, just in time to hear the distinctive clink of an arrow embedding itself four inches deep into the log wall of the fort, right where she was just standing.

She barely dared breathe as she waited to hear the sound of more arrows. When she heard none, she quietly and silently as she could, climbed over the wall and allowed heself to fall to the ground bellow.

Allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, she peered across the stone bridge in the direction the arrows had came, and saw the silhouette of a spectre in familiar armor atop a dark steed. She would've wrote it off as a mere coincidence if not for the deep blood-red glow of the horses eyes visible even in the darkest nights.

Triana ran through the woods of Hjaalmarch faster than anyone ever had before, silently praising Nocturnal for her good luck.

~III~

The figure watched; after casting _night's eye, _as a woman in vagabond armor fled the bandit encampment. He considered hunting her down, but quickly dismissed the idea.

_'She isn't my primary target anyway' _he mused _'Besides I'm intrigued, she quickly realized how dangerous I am, but didn't even bother to warn her so called comrades. Instead she chose to save herself'. _Normally acts of blatant betrayal such as this would enrage him, but he had to admit, it was refreshing to find a bandit not possessed by the false bravado most of her colleagues suffer from.

"Let's go, Shadowmere. It's time we make ourselves known. Its rude to keep our host waiting". Shadowmere neighed in approval and ran across the stone bridge, leading to his preys nest.

**I've always been curious about the thoughts of random npc enemies like bandits as they rush to meet the Dragonborn in battle despite watching several of their comrades die in battle. One would think that someone as infamous as The Last Dragonborn would cause lesser enemies to think twice about attacking him. As well as cause other more dangerous foes to purposefully seek him out in search of honor. In light of this my story will be running on a more realistic system. For example. While wearing DB armor bandits will be more apprehensive about attacking the MC wereas if he were wearing normal clothes or companion armor bandits will be more likely to attack. In tandem all guards will be aware of the DB and thieves guild uniforms so if the MC is spotted in it the will behave as such. However all this will vary from character to character. I want to build an as immersive story as possible.**


	4. Working

**Shout out to Jay and videogamerfan144 as my first reviewers**

**I don't own Skyrim, If I did Serana would be a marry-able character.**

**Chapter 3: Working.**

"_Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life."__  
__―__Conf__ucius_

The man dismounted Shadowmere, and hid him near the rocks. "Stay here Shadowmere, you wont be needed tonight, I'll take care of this myself".

Shadowmere whined indignantly, while the slow stroked his head

"There, there my stallion. It's nothing personal, but what I have planned will require a bit more finese, and let's face it, subtlety isn't really your strong-suit.

Shadowmere calmed down, and neighed reluctantly, but stayed where he was.

"I'll tell you what. After I complete this mission I promise, we'll go out into the forest and hunt some random bandit gangs, just the two of us". He patted his best friends large side.

Using his sneak skill, the man entered unseen through the south western entrance. After casting a quick detect life spell; he analyzed the interior of the encampment.

_'Hmm, one guard at the western front, one bandit guards the northern rear entrance, the remainig three bandits_ _are stationed in the main area of the fort__'. _He mulled the over for a bit.

"The only traps I see are three bear traps just out side the western entrance". He frowned.

The man had faced bandit forts that would put the greatest Imperial base to shame, guarded by wizards, wolves, and occasional giants. In fact some of his greatest battles, and closest calls, had been by bandits he'd just happened across.

_'Two archer sentries, one of whom was too cowardly (or the most intelligent bandit he'd ever seen) to fight, nor loyal enough to warn the others. A single guard at each entrance, while the others slept, and minimal traps'. _The man sighed _'"_These guys are sloppy".

Why anyone would go out of their way to perform the black sacrament, and hire a dark brotherhood assassin for this he had no idea.

A handful of farmers with; with basic sword, and shield knowledge, would be all it would take to kill these men with minimal casualties.

_'By Sithis the client could've hired a single companion at a third of the price'. _The man thought, soul filled with aggravation.

It made no sense. Clearly the bandit chief wasn't stupid, the fort was strategically placed just 300 feet away from the only bridge leading from Whiterun to Solitude, but it was placed in Hjaalmarch, still too far away from either major hold to gather too much attention.

_'Oh well, a contract's a contract'. _The man examined his situation. He had the element of surprise, and as far as he could tell, he was far more skilled, and adept than his opponents. He could walk right through the gates, and kill everyone in minutes with his bare hands.

He smiled. '_But then what would be the fun in that'. _He quickly cast a spell to become invisible, and crept silently over to the west entrance, where an Orc guard; in standard steel armor, stood arms crossed.

"Why this hulking behemoth would be intimidating to most men".

"What? Who said that?" The guard asked aloud confused.

The man allowed him self to become visible, giving the guard a brief shock, just as he went to his weapon, the assassin slashed the Orc guards throat open, with Mehrune's Razor one of the few weapons he never allowed to leave his person.

_'But I'm not most men' _he smirked as he cleaned the blade, sheathed it, and became invisible once more.

Unseen the man entered the camp. _'There he is, Mikhail Donovan'. _The large imperial man slept in a shack, at the center of the camp, which contained a single table, a grind stone, and a crafting table.

_'He wears his armor as he sleeps'? _If he wore light armor like the rest of his crew that would be just fine, but sleeping in heavy armor was dangerous. It had the potential to overheat someone, as well as making it near impossible for anyone (save maybe an Orc) to spring into action when waking from a deep sleep.

"_Ignorance wont fly this time'. _He had to know this, it was common knowledge among warriors, adventurers, _and _bandits. That he still took the risk meant something.

_'He's paranoid'. _The assassin assessed as he rubbed his chin. _'He knows the dangers of wearing heavy armor to sleep, yet choose to do so anyway'._

As far as he knew, this particular area of Skyrim was rarely patrolled by imperial soldiers, and the Hjaalmarch guards stuck to Morthal.

_'Could it be that he's afraid of his own men'? _The man smiled. _'Well I guess I'll have to test this hypothesis'. _He the conjured a ball of red magika and fired it upon the sleeping bandits.

~II~

Mikhail Donovan awoke to a blistering headache.

"Ugh I drank too much" he said aloud to himself. "The sun's not even up yet, why the hell are they up already".

The bandit leader rose slowly, and left his shack to see what all the ruckus was about, completely unaware of what he was in for.

"**Hey!** Whats all the commotion..." the bandit leader froze in his tracks, and stared mouth ajar, horrified at his men; weapons drawn in no holds bar kill or be killed combat.

"By oblivion, it's a damned riot", the Mikhail drew his two-handed orcish battle-ax, and for the next few minutes the bandit camp was oblivion on Nirn.

The bandits savagery was inhuman as they relentlessly ripped each other apart, the screeching sound of clashing steel, and the death wails of fallen the vagabonds echoed through the Hjaalmarch wilderness.

In the end Mikhail Donovan stood alone, among the corpses of his former comrades; bloodied, and battered, the bandit leader returned to his cabin

_'I always knew this would happen'. _The bandit chief thought bitterly to himself. _'I'm just glad I had the foresight to keep a stash hidden in that chest in the water'_. Tomorrow he would head down to Dragon's Bridge, with his gold. Hopefully he'd have a new operation up and running by the years end.

Unfortunately for him, there would be no next year, nor a tomorrow for him.

~III~

The assassin looked upon the remains of the fallen bandits and felt a deep sense of satisfaction. _'Lord Dagon and Lady Boethiah must have smiled on their champion tonight'. _The man thought as he appreciated his work _'But then again I do this every night'. _The man sighed.

Then; just as soon as it came, the sense of satisfaction was gone, replaced by the contemplative boredom that had become the mans default.

"Rest endlessly within the void". He whispered as he closed the shocked, betrayed eyes of a man ax-murdered in his sleep by those he thought as brothers.

The dark armored assassin entered the hut where Mikhail Donovan now slept armor-less.

"Thanks, for making this so easy for me" the man said both dismissive, and condescendingly sarcastic.

He sat in a nearby chair and quietly pondered how he would dispose of the sleeping chief, he considered simply stabbing him or setting him on fire, but he was in the mood for something with a little more flair. Among the bandit chief's belongings he found a small key.

He the searched near the fireplace for a poker. _'Aha now we have a show'_.

The man collected several more items, and stored them in his pouch. He then began forming a spell which he cast on the bandit chiefs sleeping form.

"Rise" the man commanded and the bandit chief did so. The assassin smiled, Command Humanoid was a spell that died with the mage's guild just after the oblivion, crisis over 200 years ago. It had taken weeks of religious studying, within the College of Winterhold libraries, dozens of visits to the Augur of Dunlain for guidance, and hundreds of failed experiments at the atronach forge to resurrect the spell.

He forged only three copies, one to be added to the college of Winterhold as he promised to Urag gro-Shub for unlimited, unfettered access to to the college library, one sat on a regular shelf at the Dawnstar sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood, and the last was for his personal collection.

"Open the trap door, and go inside" the sleeping chief did as commanded. "Stand in the water, and hold your hands above your head". Once more the sleeping chief obeyed the orders of his temporary master. The man withdrew the fireplace poker from his pack and began to heat and mold the instrument with a nearby torch.

"Okay, now time to get into character". The man put on his best nihilist apathetic face. Mouth now forming a straight line, the man said in a bored tone "Time to start the show". He then walked slowly atop the water, and stabbed the bandit leader; with the hot poker through his hands pining him to the stone wall.

~IV~

Mikhail Donovan awoke to a searing pain, he tried to scream out only to inhale a mouthful of water.

Mikhail wheezed and coughed as the water exited his lungs. He attempted to move, but found himself suspended neck deep in water.

"Help, someone please". Mikhail cried out for aid.

"Help? From who. Are you forgetting you just massacred your crew."

The bandit leader looked around for the source of the voice, and standing atop the water a few feet away from him, was a figure in black and crimson leather armor. Mikhail started to speak but was quickly silenced.

"Shh. Listen to me" the figure spoke gently as he approached him. "Do exactly as I say".

Before Mikhail could respond the figure crouched down and slowly, painfully twisted the hot iron rod pinning his hands to solid stone. The pain was so intense that Mikhail quickly passed out.

When he awoke again, he was tied to a chair pointed towards a table, with objects covered by a cloth.

Standing directly in front of him, the hooded figure stared blankly at him. Though the bandit chief had never seen it before, he knew that the mans armor was that of the Dark Brotherhood, he'd grown up hearing stories of the shadowy group of murderers for hire.

About how they moved like the wind, and could become one with the darkness. He'd even heard more recent rumors that the emperor had been murdered; on his own ship surrounded by his elite guards, by these monsters.

The man before him was only 5'11(180cm) just under six feet. He pulled back his hood. Mikhail gasped as he was greeted with the youthful face of a boy, just reaching adulthood, he had a short crop of black hair, pale skin, with a light stubble of facial hair, and slightly rounded ears that marked him of Breton lineage.

But none of this bothered Mikhail, he himself had become a bandit when he was no older than this boy, the shocking part was his eyes. Cold, unfeeling, merciless, black orbs, that the bandit chief had only seen in hardened war-stained soldiers, never in a young man just old enough to marry. It was then when he knew he was going to die.

Mikhail knew this man had seen more in his short time on Nirn, than he had, or ever would see again.

The young assassin took the cloth of the table and revealed what was underneath.

Mikhail shook his head.

"Look" Mikhail heard the young voice of the assassin.

"No" Mikhail replied squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.

"Uh, yes". The young man answered.

Mikhail continued to shake his head. "sob* No, no, no, no"

The assassin nodded. "It's horrible isn't it"? He asked plainly.

Mikhail continued to sob. "No, please" the bandit begged.

The young man grabbed Mikhail's throat, and began choking him. "Open your eyes or I'll cut your eyelids right off your face". He demanded coldly.

Slowly Mikhail opened his eyes and on the table he saw the wet, rotting corpse of a young boy.

"Who was he"? The young assassin asked.

Mikhail didn't answer, he just stared at the child on the table.

"You know, originally I was simply going to electrocute you in the water". The young man continued speaking.

"I was going to shot a small lightning spell at the electricity conducting pole, which the water would've enhanced". He explained as Mikhail continued to stare at the child. "But when I found him" he jerked his chin at the boy. "Well, I decided you deserved something special".

"The poor child had been in the water; with the salmon so long, he was starting to fall apart. I pulled him out in bits and pieces".

"Hail Mora full of grace".

"Stop" the youth smacked the praying bandit chief lightly "That never helped anyone" he paused thinking over what he said. "Well I guess I cant say that, praying at altars heals disease". The assassin smiled "And a prayer is what brought you and I together" he said jokingly.

The bandit chief knew that he was referencing the black sacrament, an ancient ritual used to speak to the Night Mother; the goddess of the dark brotherhood to request a murder.

"But it definitely never helped some one in your situation".

Mikhail kept sobbing "Please, you can have anything you want, just please..."

"Oh I know I can, and I will, but please keep begging. Did this little boy beg".

"sob* Is that what this is about? Sob* Did someone find out, and paid you to kill me". The bandit chief questioned.

"Actually, no". The assassin answered pulling out the contract. "We've been sitting on this contract for about a month now, I only did it now because I have business in the area. If that was the case your death would've been given higher priority, and we would've charged more". The young man read over the contract. "Lets see here. An old associate of yours; Brodir, asked us to kill you over a gold dispute".

Mikhail thought of Brodir, '_It was his fault I'm in this mess, and for what? Gold'._

"Please, Brodir is a monster, if anyone deserves to die its him" Mikhail pleaded.

"I'm sure he is, but it's not about what we deserve, you didn't put a hit out on Brodir he put one out one you". The assassin drew a long jagged, viscous looking blade. For most of Skyrim's citizens embalming tools were useless relics, but to him they were a deadly torture device. "That you apparently like to torture and murder children is a bonus". The assassin said as he examined his weapon.

"I beg you please, you have to understand. I just... I cant... help myself" the bandit chief stuttered between sobs.

The assassin smiled grimly "Trust me I definitely understand".

Mikhail ceased sobbing briefly "You do" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, you see I cant help myself either, I cant remember the last time I went more than a day without killing something". The assassin said as he coated his blade in an unknown syrupy potion. "But children I could never do that. Not like you. Never. Ever. Kids." and he meant it.

Despite the sheer brutality of Tamriel, the child mortality rate was surprisingly low, in Skyrim especially. In fact this was the first time he'd seen a dead child's body, and only the fourth time he'd heard of a child's murder.

"Why"? Mikhail asked. The assassin slashed across his face. Instantly the paralyzing poison took affect.

The assassin paused. Why couldn't he kill children? It wasn't as though the idea particularly bothered him. It was just that the opportunity had never presented itself.

Ripping an amulet of his neck. "Because. I. Have standards". He whispered lightly, never taking his eyes away from teary eyes of his prey.

"Soon, your soul will be in the cold loving embrace of the Night Mother in the eternal, all accepting void of lord Sithis. And this small corner of Nirn will be a neater happier place, a better place".

"Please" Mikhail whispered "Spare me Dark Brotherhood assassin".

The young man stopped "Oh'" he smacked his forehead. "Silly me where are my manners. My name is Godric, and I will be your murderer this evening".

He went to work on the bandit leader of Robber's Grove body, all the while Mikhail Donovan never stopped screaming.

~V~

Godric sat in down in the chair and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. In his hands was the still lightly, pulsing heart of Mikhail Donovan. For someone like him who was used to combat, the patient, precision needed to dissect and remove an organ was a daunting task.

_'But still worth it'. _Human heart's were a valuable alchemical ingredient and Babette was always happy when he brought back a few for her. So the listener of the Dark Brotherhood asked Cicero, to teach him to use embalming tools to remove the organs of living people. It had taken dozen's of victims and Cicero's careful guidance before he could perform the procedure.

He would never be as gifted in torture as the keeper was, but he was proficient enough to remove roughly any organ. He learned this all for his little/older sister, because what made his family happy, made him happy.

_'But I don't think I'll be giving this one to Babette'. _

While inspecting the heart Godric was busy thinking. Something Mikhail had said to was still bothering him.

"_Please, Brodir is a monster, if anyone deserves to die its him". _These words replayed themselves over, and over again in his head.

There was nothing Godric hated more than to be used to settle petty squabbles, but the brotherhood was low on manpower so he accepted it, but his client was a lowly bandit, that he could not accept.

_'I need compensation for this insult'. _He thought as he rose from his chair and began sorting through the dead bandits personal belongings. Among the few books he found a journal.

"Hello whats this"? He asked aloud to himself.

One of his habits was collecting any journals he could find. The reason being that each contract was a story, and he was the end, but the sad part of being an assassin is never knowing the full story. That's why; no matter how miniscule, he kept ever diary or note he could find.

Godric opened the Bandit Leader's Journal, and read aloud to himself "...8th of First Seed, 4E 201  
Brodir's getting suspicious- I caught him poking around in the cove this afternoon. I don't think he found my stash, but it's not safe here. I took the boat out tonight and stowed it on the island to the south, by the old tree stump".

That entry was from over a two months ago. Godric thought about what had read, and what he understood about his client, and smiled.

Godric picked up his embalming tool. "Sorry Babette, but I don't think you'll be getting his, or any of their hearts tonight".

Godric laughed as he exited Robber's Cove, already forgetting then corpse's of the sick bandit leader, and the nameless young boy unfortunate enough to be his victim.

They would become a mere entry in his massive journal, and would never be thought about by him again.

It was dawn by the time Godric returned to Shadowmere, the immortal horse had waited patient right where he left him as he always did. Sometimes he'd had to leave Shadowmere alone for weeks while exploring Blackreach, or Labyrinthian, and had left in such a rush he had forgot his friend. Yet no matter how far he went, Shadowmere was always there to greet him just outside the gates of the city.

The black horse neighed happily at his return.

"I missed you too, and as promised we'll kill someone on the way back to Dragon Bridge, but first lets go just south for a bit, there's an errand I need to take care of".

He mounted Shadowmere a rode away from the carnage he had wrought, and he frowned.

_'Tonight is over, but it'll happen again tomorrow night, and again, and again, it had to happen'._

**So I decided to do some editing and chose to cut this story in half, because looking back the transition felt like it belonged to two different chapters. From now on im going to try to keep a consistent chapter length of 2,000-3500 words per chapter**


	5. A Job Well Done

**This was originally apart of chapter 3 but I thought it deserved it's own chapter**

**I do not own Skyrim. **

**Chapter 4. A Job Well Done.**

_"It was not curiosity that killed the goose who laid the golden egg, but an insatiable greed that devoured common sense."_

_―E.A. Bucchianeri,Brushstrokes of a Gadfly_

Brodir thought himself a cunning man. He wasn't remarkable gifted in swordsmanship like most Nords, nor did he possess a silver tongue, but what he lacked in skill, and charisma he made up for in intuition, and deviousness.

That's why, when things were starting to go south with his old crew, he fled in the middle of the night, before Mikhail had him strung-up as an example to other potential mutineers.

While on the road he thought of ways to take his revenge on his old crew. He considered getting together a new crew, there was no shortage of bandits in Skyrim, but as a rule inter-bandits wars were avoided, so that wasn't an option. His next idea was to hire a sell sword to take them out, but no one mercenary could take out that many men, and he couldn't afford the number of them necessary to get the job done.

From that thought, he had the best idea any vagrant had ever had, true no single mercenary could eliminate a gang of bandits, but surely an assassin could, and not just any assassin a Dark Brotherhood assassin.

For the nest few weeks Brodir scoured all of Skyrim, visiting inns and bandit camps looking for any information he could on the Dark Brotherhood. Practices, rumors, sitings, but most importantly how to contact them. By the end of his quest Brodir could say with confidence, that he knew more about the group of assassins than anyone in Skyrim who wasn't a member himself, and still had no idea of how to contact them.

That was until he went to Windhelm. He had heard a rumor that a few years back a young boy had tried to contact the Dark Brotherhood and he thought it was worth investigating, but following the Emperors death no one would speak of it.

After leaving candle-hearth hall, he stumbled drunk through the streets of Windhelm, until he was approach by a boy no older than twelve.

The boy had black hair and wore clothes 2 sizes too large for him. He was out late and seemed completely unafraid of the older man so he was clearly an orphan.

"So, I heard your looking for a way to contact the Dark Brotherhood" the boy whispered to him.

Brodir was slightly shocked at the boy's question. "Yeah, so. Whats it to a guttersnipe like you" he slurred drunkenly.

"Well what if I told you I knew of a way" the boy asked

"A way to what"?

"A way to contact the Dark Brotherhood". The boy said.

Brodir sobered up instantly. "What? And how would a kid like you know how to contact 'em"?

"Because I've done it before". He answered staring into deep into the older mans eyes.

Brodir looked back at him he knew those eyes, they were the eyes of a natural killer. _"This boys innocence was lost long ago"._

"Alright brat, suppose I believe you, how do yo do it" he asked.

"Not here" he whispered "Meet me outside the cemetery in an hour and bring 50 gold"

"Why"? He asked indignantly.

"Finder's fee". In truth Aventus just needed the money to pay for a carriage to Riften.

"Shit. Fine brat". Aventus just nodded, and slipped away.

An hour later Brodir waited outside the Windhelm cemetery.

"Your late". Aventus Arentino slipped out from behind a tombstone.

"Shut up". He spat.

"Did you bring the gold". The boy asked.

"Yeah its right here". He tossed the boy a small coin purse. Arentino quickly counted it before stowing it away.

"Here". Aventus handed the older man a small book.

"WHAT IS THIS. SOME KIND OF JOKE". Brodir yelled in frustration.

"Shh. You're to loud."

"THIS IS A BOOK, YOU TRYING TO SWINDLE ME YOU LITTLE..."

"Not just any book, read the cover". The pointed out.

Brodir looked down at the cover _The Black Sacrament _it read in bold letters.

A book? What he had been searching for all this time. All of it was in a book?

"Is this it"? He asked the orphan boy. Never taking his eyes away from the book in his hands.

"Yeah. Everything you need to know about performing the black sacrament is in that book".

"Good" Brodir quickly drew a dagger and with it he attempted to stab the boy in the chest. However after almost 3 years of living on the streets of Windhelm fighting for food with older boys Aventus' reflexes had been honed, but a grown man with years of fighting experience was different from a starving young boy, and the orcish dagger ended up 3 inches deep into Aventus' shoulder.

Acting purely on instinct Aventus grabbed the older mans arm to prevent him from driving the knife any deeper, and using strength he didn't know he had, kicked the man in the stomach winding him, and pushed away from him, taking the dagger with him.

Still winded from the blow and shocked by the boy's display of survival skills. Brodir stumbled away from the boy, but quickly recovered.

"Sorry kid, but a I can't take any chances. Loose ends and all that you understand". He flashed the boy a predatory grin.

Aventus stepped away from the man trying to formulate a plan while preventing himself from passing out.

"Any last words kid"? Brodir asked drawing a steel dagger.

Aventus choose this meeting place, because ever since all those murders a few years back. The guards patrolled this are heavily, a new guard walked by practically every five minutes, he just needed to buy time.

"Yeah, don't do the black sacrament". Aventus spat out bitterly.

"What"? Brodir asked confused.

"You heard me. Do. Not. Perform. The black sacrament". Aventus repeated between gasp.

"Oh and why not"? The former bandit asked the dying boy amused.

"Because, you won't survive it". The boy answered.

"WHAT"? It was impossible. Was this some kind of suicide pact? There was no way. The brotherhood would never have become as popular as they are if that was the case. The boy standing infront of him was proof. He had a hard time believing an organization known for killing any target no matter what would spare a young boy.

"They'll kill you". Aventus told him. _'Just a little more time I have to keep him talking'_

"And what makes you say that". He gulped fearfully.

"The Dark Brotherhood assassin are heroes, they'll never kill for someone like you". Aventus gasped out.

Brodir stared in shock, before bursting into hardy laughter "HA HA HA. Is that what you think? That the dark brotherhood are heroes"? He continued laughing for a full 30 seconds

Wiping a tear from his eye Brodir continue speaking. "Oh that was good. I needed that. I haven't laughed like that in a long time. Let me guess they killed someone who was hurting you for almost no cost, so now you think they're heroes"?

Aventus remained silent. At this Brodir laughed once more.

"Oh that's rich. Listen kid the Dark Brotherhood are not heroes. They are a group of savage murders, albeit excellent murders but still murders".

_'That's it keep on talking, just a little more time'. _Aventus thought drastically.

Brodir continued speaking. "You think they killed some for you because they're allies of justice? WRONG. They killed because they enjoyed it. They would just as easily kill your or me for no reason at all, other than that they could. In fact if I murdered you here they'd probably offer me a job".

Aventus gulped he needed more time. "That maybe so but they'd never kill for you".

"Oh and why not for me". He asked again amused.

Aventus was all out of ideas so he decided to go for the truth. "Because your garbage. And believe me if you summon the brotherhood, they will kill you". Aventus spoke with true conviction.

Angered by the boys proclamation, Brodir raised his dagger. "Well either way it doesn't matter, because I'm going to kill you now..."

"Hey whats going on here" a female Windhelm guard asked accusatory

Startled Brodir did nothing, but Arentino capitalized on the distraction.

"HELP this mans attacking me". Seeing that the boy was griping a bleeding arm, the guard immediately drew her bow.

"Freeze". Brodir immediately turned around and ran toward the Windhelm gates barely dodging the guards arrows. **"Someone stop him"! **The guad debated chasing the criminal but noticed the boy was bleeding profusely. "I NEED A HEALER HERE, NOW".

Brodir escaped from Windhelm with a bounty of over 3000 and made his way to Dragon Bridge, just outside of Solitude.

After renting a room at a local inn he read the book he'd bought from the little urchin who had almost gotten him jailed.

The book said that in order to perform the Black Sacrament, the invoker must create an effigy of the intended victim, assembled from actual body parts, including a heart, skull, bones, and flesh. They must then encircle that effigy with candles. The ritual itself must then commence. The invoker must proceed to stab the effigy repeatedly with a dagger rubbed with petals of a Nightshade plant.

Instead of scouring Skyrim for these things he just decided to murder a random stranger in order to perform the ritual, but first he needed somewhere to do it.

Luckily just east of dragons bridge he found a shack whose only inhabitant was a dog. In the shack he found everything he would need including an effigy. After chasing the dog away Brodir prepared the area for the Black Sacrament.

Nearly a day into the ritual Brodir met with a redguard man who was, apparently a representative of the brotherhood. After asking several details about the nature of the assignment the redguard pulled out a scroll for him to sign, and requested 350 gold.

After the formalities were done with, the redguard left, and informed him that the contract would be done in a timely manner and that within the next few weeks he would be hearing from another representative to inform him of its completion.

Now nearly a month later he was sitting in the local inn Dragon Bridge in drinking cheap ale.

"Hello are you Brodir"?

"Depends whose asking". Brodir turned around and was met with a young man. His face was youthful, with black windswept hair, confident black eyes and a mischievous arrogant smile that matched him perfectly, but what really caught his attention was the young mans clothing.

On his head he wore the finest gold and diamond circlet Brodir had ever seen. His clothing was black leather, with white fur around the neck and fine sturdy leather boots. He wore a gold diamond amulet, and a gold ruby ring on each hand.

He had to be a noble. Dragon Bridge was just outside of Solitude, so it wasn't uncommon for young lords to visit the inn to get a taste of life as one of the "common folk". The question was what did he want with him.

"That would be me". The young noblemen greeted him. "My name is Godric, pleased to meet you". He offer Brodir his hand, which he took hesitantly.

"Uh likewise" he responded shaking his hand. _'One of those rings is worth enough to fund an all new gang' _Brodir speculated plotting how he would rob the young man.

"May I sit with you"? He asked politely

"Yes, yes of course sit down, please".

"Barkeep"? The young man asked

"Yes" the woman behind the bar asked

"A bottle of your finest drink for my friend here". He patted Brodir on the shoulder for emphasis.

Appraising the young mans clothing she quickly agreed. "Yes m'lord comin' right up"

"So uh to what do I owe the pleasure'. Brodir asked.

"I'm here in regards to business". He replied.

That was a surprise. "Business? What kind of business"? He asked suspicious of the young lord's intention.

"Ah yes, it is my pleasure to inform you as an assassin of the dark brotherhood, that Mikhail Donovan has been disposed of".

If nothing else bothered him today hearing this was the straw that broke the mammoth's back. "You. The _Dark_ _Brotherhood_"?

"What? Let me guess you were expecting me to show up in your dreams dressed in shadowy armor"? He asked the older man.

"Well I mean". Brodir rubbed the back of his neck feeling foolish.

"Don't worry. It's a common misconception that we are all cloaked schemers. In truth if I walked around all day in my brotherhood uniform I'd be attacked on the spot". He explained

Brodir had to concede that point. "So this is what you wear during your time off". He asked motioning to the youths clothes.

"Hm, do you like. Murder is a high-paying trade after all". He explained motioning to the grisly looking dagger at his waist.

Brodir whistled "Wow who'd you have to kill to get a piece like _that_". Brodir asked jokingly before he remembered who he was speaking to.

The assassin smiled "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you" he joked.

Brodir laughed nervously internally debating whether or not that was true. "So uh I guess this concludes our business then".

The youth smiled once more, and a strange gleam entered his eye. "Yes I suppose it does for now, but my associates and I were wondering if you'd like to take this relationship a little further". He asked

Brodir gulped "What do you mean"?

"Now, now no need for that". The young assassin dug into his pockets and withdrew a key. "According to Donovan's journal, this key unlocks a secret chest, hidden near an old stump in the pond just south of Robber's Gorge". He offered the key to the man in front of him.

Brodir picked up the key and examined it. "But why give this to me"? Brodir asked. _Why not claim it for yourself went unsaid._

"Well two reason's. Number one is money means next to nothing to the brotherhood, we kill for the thrill of it, and because it is the will of our Dread Lord". The devout way he said this frightened the nord man. "Two, well you can consider this an investment".

"Investment"?

"Yes, I believe that you are a man who will come to need our services in the future so consider this favor to be a gesture of good-will on the brotherhood's part".

Brodir grinned. He knew hiring the brotherhood was a good idea, despite what that brat in Windhelm said. With the money stashed away in the cove, he'd have that little bastard killed by his beloved heroes. '_Yeah that'd teach him'._

The bar maiden returned with a bottle of fine ale. "Here you go". She sat the bottle on the table. "That'll be 65 septims".

Brodir stiffened. He knew that was more the five times the price of the drink. Surely the assassin would kill her for gouging him?

To his surprise the young man simply pulled out a handful of gold and handed to the women.

"Thank you, would you be needing anything else"? She asked perkily

"No thank you milady I'm afraid I have urgent business to attend, and must be going" he stood and prepared to leave.

"Thank you, for your help. Tell your superiors that it was a job well done, and that I'm sure that I'll be needing your services again soon" Brodir grinned a the black haired youngster, who merely smiled and waved.

~VII~

Brodir strolled happily back to his old hideout. Stepping the gates he passed the body of Ba-log the Orc guard. Brodir appraised the scene, it wasn't the clean efficient kills with a bow or a dagger like he had expected, no these men were brutalized. They were all lying in various poses, each one had received massive damage from various weapons, each kill was unique, special. The only shared wound on each man was that they were all missing their hearts.

_'Must be some kind of signature'. _He speculated.

Brodir entered the trap door leading to the secret tunnel beneath the camp. As he walked through he came across two bodies. One the rotting corpse of a small boy, the other was that of his former partner. Unlike the others whose heart removal appeared to be post-modem Mikhail's wound was jagged, and there was blood splatter everywhere, his heart had been removed while it was still beating.

"Tsk, tsk Mikhail I told you that your bad habit would catch up with you one day" Brodir entered the water and exited the cave via the secret passageway that lead out to a small island. Just south of the camp.

Rising from the water Brodir found what he had been searching for. Near an old stump on a small island in the middle of the pond was a small row-boat. In the row-boat; submerged in the water was a large chest.

Brodir grinned in anticipation. This was what he'd been waiting for with this gold he would have that runt from Windhelm burned alive and then he'd rebuild Robber's Gorge as the new chief. Brodir unlocked the chest, to find the largest coin purse he had ever seen.

_'By the nine that's gotta be a thousand gold' _the new bandit leader went to collect his spoils.

Faldrus was a dunmer elemental mage, walking through Hjaalmarch on his pilgrimage to the shrine of Azura.

"Hello whats this"? Floating in a large pond was a charred corpse with seven equally charred hearts floating around him.

Faldrus knelt down next to the corpse. "May Azura's star guide your soul". Faldrus stood once more and continued his pilgrimage.

~VIII!

Poor Brodir if in all his travels he had received two pieces maybe his life would've been spared.

One lightning runes can be cast on surfaces beneath the water, and two _The Dark Brotherhood doesn't do favors'_. He was right about one thing though he had needed the Dark Brotherhood to kill someone soon. _A job well done indeed._

_Omake._

Amredyn C'oge awoke to screaming.

"Ah" the redguard gripped his shoulder where an arrow was embedded through his flesh. He tried to move but felt immense pain. _'What happened? I remember watching the _Menehor _go down, I rushed to try and spot the assailant I was shot. I fell. Then nothing. _

More screams were heard, '_I have to get out of here'_ the redguard outlaw fought through the pain, and dizzily stood to his feet.

"I may have a concussion, broken ribs fractures everywhere". After he heard another terrified wail his redguard blood kicked in. the adrenaline rush kicked in and he ran, while he ran only two desires kept him from passing out. He had to get away, to anywhere but here, and he had to avenge his fallen best friend, thinking of Menehor.

The listener exited the cave, and went to work on the bodies of the other bandits. By dawn he had seven human hearts for his plan, and if he ever paid attention to the number of people he killed he'd know that the number should've been eight.

**Well what does everyone think? I'm thinking about incorporating weapons and quest from mods to the story if anyone has any ideas or questions let me know.**


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